Holiday
by PrincessFerdinand
Summary: Various holdidays during New Moon with Edward/Bella. Previously: Christmas.
1. Edward: Christmas

**This is just New Moon from both Edward and Bella's POV. This chapter is Edward's. His POV.**

"Edward?" Alice's voice is carefully chipper as she addresses me. She's sprawled on the floor in their house in Ithaca - there's really no point in calling it _our _house because it's not mine, not really. I've spent maybe four days in it, maximum, since It happened.

Esme had the radio turned on to the local Christmas station. It was playing a jazzy rendition of "Baby, It's Cold Outside", and, as one could imagine, this wasn't helping too much with my Christmas spirit.

It wasn't my idea in the first place to come home for Christmas. I would have preferred to spend it alone, wallowing in some house and trying desperately to keep my ever-weakening resolve firm. But Esme had begged and begged, and finally I had agreed, knowing how much it would hurt her if I refused to come home for Christmas.

I couldn't really see a point. Christmas morning in our house was not the usual. There were presents stacked under a tree, of course - a massive one that brushed against the always-high ceilings, that Alice, Rosalie and Esme usually spent a whole afternoon draping in old-school tinsel and delicate balls - but the presents usually numbered more than the average. A _lot _more.

There wasn't really a point to the gift-giving either, at least not trying to keep it a surprise. Though everyone tried to hide it from me, to think of other things while I was around, they usually slipped up, ruining the surprise; this had inspired more than one trip at midnight Christmas Eve to get my present - and Alice would see what we were getting, of course, if not us actually buying the gift, she would see herself unwrapping it.

Usually, Alice, with a certain amount of begging and bribing, could be convinced to tell Jasper what he was getting as well; on the rare times when she refused, Jasper had a habit that worked annoyingly well: he would guess again and again, and when he finally stumbled upon the answer, he could, of course, tell that we were lying when we denied it.

Everybody else would bargain with both me and Alice on what they were getting; the bribes often rose ridiculously high. Usually, though, I wouldn't tell anybody. Alice was less firm. So, in the end, virtually no one's present was a surprise and it became a game as to who could feign the most surprise when we were unwrapping.

All of these antics usually invoked, as one could imagine, a fair amount of laughter and happiness, two things I had not felt in three months and never expected to feel again. This was partly one of the reasons I didn't want to come home for Christmas; wouldn't seeing all the joy and exultation only make the pain I felt more keen, as I saw what I was missing, what I could have again if I only ran for a few hours west?

The other reason was much more subtle but also much more important: the romance. I could not stand seeing anyone else together, not Alice and Jasper, nor Carlisle and Esme, and especially not Rosalie and Emmett. When I came to visit, everyone usually tried to act less in love - they rarely held hands or even touched at all while I was around, and while I appreciated the thought it didn't really help. This was because it wasn't really the actions so much as the feeling - an almost physical electrical current that ran through the air whenever any of the couples looked at each other. I didn't need to be Jasper to feel the love pouring out of their eyes, and that made me grow more melancholy than ever.

Like now, for example. Jasper was seated cross-legged next to Alice and he was just _looking _at her. His thoughts were of nothing but her. They weren't even touching, and still it made my heart ache more than it would have if they had been making out madly on the floor in front of me. Esme, Carlisle, Rosalie and Emmett were no better.

And I was sitting alone. Of course.

Sigh.

I could _not _be sitting alone, of course. _Stop it! _my mind screamed at me as my thoughts ran away from me, set on their course to make this Christmas the most painful one anyone anywhere had ever experienced. My fantasies continued on their own accord, out of control.

I could be 3,000 miles away right now, staring hungrily in the window as she and Charlie unwrapped their presents, probably laughing and smiling and having fun. I could just see her, sweats and T-shirt falling gracefully around her slim frame, hair tangled from sleep, eyes bright and excited.

I didn't even have to just watch. I could be - could _have been_, I told myself firmly, but my mind ignored me - part of it, watching her face as she unwrapped my gift to her, probably some inconsequential token that she would love, and then I would smile and hug her, maybe even give her a quick kiss on the cheek if Charlie was in a particularly amiable mood.

"Edward?" Alice's voice is still bright, but the annoyance is cracking through. I jerk myself out of my thoughts, my _fantasies_, and look back at her.

"Do you want to open the first present?"

Forcibly keeping my mind away from that other scene so far away, I nod mutely and she hands me one. It's wrapped in blue paper, exactly - I swallow, fighting off the sudden pain in my chest - exactly the same color as _her _prom dress. Jasper glances up sharply and gives me a curious stare. I had been doing all right - sad, of course, but in control of my own emotions - but now the agony is suddenly so acute that Jasper begins to cushion it for me, partly automatic, but mostly intentional.

"Thank you," I murmur to him, and unwrap the present.

It's a flower. A red and white flower. I'm surprised, because I haven't seen this in anyone's mind. I'm not sure what kind of flower it is - in all the books I've read, I've never been too awfully interested in botany - but it looks like it was originally all white, then dipped in red dye. Or blood.

I look up curiously, not sure what the significance of this is, but my family's stares are all just as blank as mine. Except for one.

_Well, I thought it was a good representation of Bella. It's pretty. The colors are even right - flesh and blood, red and white. And they'll both die._

My head snaps up, my eyes lock in on Rosalie's smug smile, and before I can even think, I'm launching myself across the room.

Emmett reacts faster than anyone else, and he's suddenly in front of me. I collide with him, and we both fall to the floor. He's holding my arms behind my back, and I try to wrestle free. It's futile, of course.

"Rosalie!" Alice is appalled. "How could you do that? How could you possibly think that would help him?"

Though the anger still roars through me, incensed, my thoughts catch up to my body and the pain takes my breath away. I relax against Emmett, stop struggling. It takes all my energy to remain standing.

I tell myself this is stupid. I know that she will die, I know that she's beautiful. And I know all too well the crimson color of her blood, the ghastly pale color of her face when the blood is absent from there. So why does this reminder hurt me so much?

Rosalie looked a little crestfallen, like maybe this isn't such a good idea after all. Wow, Rosalie. Good guess.

"I just thought….I just thought it would help him move on," Rosalie admits, looking at the floor.

"_What happened_?" Emmett demands, still restraining me, though it's no longer necessary. I'm in too much pain to do anything, attack anyone. Or answer his question.

"The flower is supposed to represent Bella," Alice says quickly through her teeth. She's glaring at Rosalie. "The red and white signifies her flesh and blood, the beauty overall, and…it's also about how they'll both die."

Now it's not only Alice who looks appalled. Even Emmett lets go of me and turns to glare at Rosalie, for once in his life mad at her.

"What exactly were you thinking?" he demands, eyes flashing. "We're trying to help him heal, Rose, not give him reminders of her mortality! Not remind him of her at all! This is a really tough time for him, you know that. I can't believe anyone has to tell you! Why can't you just realize that he loves her, that he's not going to get over her any time soon?" He pauses for a moment, then turns to me. "I'm sorry, Edward," he says quietly.

There's utter silence, and suddenly it's just too much for me. I have to get away from all this pity, all this misery, all this _pain_. Of course, I know there is no escape, no sanctuary except for the one place that I cannot go. I have to get away from all the benevolent glances from my family, Esme's eyes wide with the yearn to comfort me, Carlisle's whole body screaming _compassion_, Jasper's face as he desperately tries to help me shoulder the pain. I have to get _away_.

Up the stairs to my room, much like the one I had in Forks - even thinking the name of the town is enough to make me wince. Collapsing on the couch where we sat together, staring at the window, looking at the CD player that she listened to, that she touched. Eyeing the music she had once stood in front of, questioning.

Her face is in the forefront of my mind, her scent in my nose. It's so real that the pain in my chest is nearly equal to the pain of my transformation, the only human memory I have left. How can I bear this any more?

But I have to. I _have _to. It is not a choice to fail, not an option. Again, I think of the scene that must be taking place in her house now, how happy she must be without me. There is a reason I'm going through this. A reason I'm being without her.

It scares me to think of how short a time it's really been since I left - the three month anniversary had just passed. How little time had passed, how much more had to pass before I would be allowed to escape from this hell.

I stand again and go to look out the window. There's not any snow outside, but the sky is gray. I can't see the sun, but I know where it is overhead. I stare at it, trying desperately to imagine that this is the same sun that she is looking at, so far away. That maybe we are still connected, after all.

I hope desperately that she is having fun, that she's taking care of herself. That she's all right, anything better than this horrible, awful day.

"Merry Christmas, Bella," I whisper, before sinking to the floor once again and burying my face in my hands.

**So…review! Review! Review! While reading though it, I thought that maybe Rosalie might have been a little out of character, but maybe not. **

**Anyway, next chapter is Bella. **


	2. Bella: Christmas

**I can't say I like this chapter too terribly much. Sorry, babylopez2008, I don't think it'll make you cry.**

When my eyes snapped open, my last scream was still reverberating in my ears; shrill, ear-piercing, and unquestionably terrified.

I squeezed my eyes shut again and tried not to think about the dream, not that that would help. It wasn't the physical elements that had me screaming into my pillow, just the horrible feeling that came with it.

I half-smiled at thinking about a dream as _physical_ when it existed solely in your mind. That was one thing I _had _noticed in the haze I put around myself: I had become a lot more philosophical.

I glanced at the clock: 4:50 AM. _You almost made it through the night_, I tried to comfort myself, but I knew it wasn't true. I thought about trying to get back to sleep, but I had to admit to myself I was scared to. The dream had never come twice in one night, but I didn't really want to test this theory now - not with so little time until I would normally wake up anyway.

The little greenish numbers under the time read 12-25, and I realized with a jolt that it was Christmas morning. Could it really? I remembered vaguely Thanksgiving, when there had been a dozen people in Charlie's house, all smiling and laughing and talking. That had been a hard day. I even remembered avoiding Christmas shopping until the very last minute because of the Christmas music that would undoubtedly be blaring through the stores.

I mentally chided myself; I needed to be more observant. Charlie would be more worried than I knew he already was if I didn't even notice Christmas morning. Because I knew that if I hadn't noticed those numbers, I would have believed it was any other morning. I would have woken up, padded sleepily down the stairs and sat at the table, staring at nothing while Charlie ate his breakfast.

Seven or eight years ago, when I still lived in Phoenix, I knew exactly what I would be doing right now: tiptoeing down the stairs as quietly as ten-your-old possible, sneaking past my mother's room at the stairs, and finally peering round the banister at the Christmas tree to see if Santa had come. Well, truthfully, to inspect the oddly-shaped packages and wonder which ones were mine, as I had stopped believing in Santa much earlier than normal; that was the kind of thing that happened when you were the mental parent.

But now, what to do? I really did want to go back to sleep, but not because I was really tired. More, I would sleep most of the time if it weren't for the nightmares. When I slept, I didn't have to spend so much energy on forcing myself not to think, so much energy into not feeling anything at all but at the same time knowing what was going on so I could respond like I was supposed to. It was hard work, especially when one slip that took maybe a few moments to commit would make hours of throbbing pain that would only further enforce my will to be completely numb. Sleeping created a welcome relief from the dull but exhausting work that was truly life-or-death. When I slept, I could relax; my memories couldn't haunt me here. But, the nightmare did exist, and I would much rather force myself to forget than live through that dream any more than I had to.

I got up, brushed through my hair and tried to straighten it; I had never used to, but straightening took a long time and that was what I needed - no free time. It didn't work very well, though - my hair was too thick. So I spent a good forty-five minutes straightening it, then pulling it up into a ponytail, letting it back down, pulling it up, until I was completely satisfied that I looked normal. Spreading concealer underneath the bags under my eyes - again, not something I had ever bothered with before, but I had nothing to better to waste my time with now, and besides, I hadn't had natural bag-free eyes for three months.

I crept downstairs, past the Christmas tree that Charlie had picked and decorated virtually by himself - I had been there, of course, but I had only nodded to everything he said and mechanically hung on the ornaments and lights he gave me.

The lights on the tree were still on, and it cast an odd glow about the room. The way it stood there alone and proud cast a melancholy stake through my heart as I saw the analogy.

_Don't think about that_, I told myself fiercely, and I was proud when I was able to veer my thoughts directly off that dangerous line.

I wandered into the kitchen and took down a mug, pouring in milk and a hot chocolate mix before sticking it into the microwave.

But what to do now? I pondered while the hot chocolate heated. I had very little homework - the teachers had obviously thought they were doing us a favor and being nice by assigning no homework over the break - and I knew that in the following week before school started again there would be more blank hours to fill, hours better suited to doing homework then now.

The microwave dinged, and I took out the mug, stirring the hot liquid and bringing it to the table. I took my drink to the table and sat heavily into the chair, cupping both hands around the mug before lifting it to my mouth. I took a small, tentative sip and winced - it was too hot.

Finally, I ended up reading every word of the paper as I waited for Charlie to get up. Usually I didn't read much, but the paper seemed relatively safe - current events couldn't have too awfully much to do with anything, could it:?

Charlie came down earlier than usual around seven, and he did a double take when he saw me sitting at the table, poring over an article about the wildlife decline in the last few years.

"You're up early," he said warily. Had he heard my scream?

"I woke up and couldn't get back to sleep," I answered slowly but truthfully.

"Oh." Charlie sat down at the opposite end of the table and we sat in silence for a moment.

"Merry Christmas," he said.

"Merry Christmas," I replied, scolding myself mentally for forgetting already.

"I said we'd go to Mark's house for dinner tonight. Is that all right?"

I nodded, sipping the last dregs of my third cup of cocoa.

He sighed, but I couldn't bring myself enough to care to ask why.

"Do you want to open your presents now?" he asked after another silent minute.

I nodded again, indifferent. I stood up and walked out to where the tree stood, and I was happy when the sight of it didn't send a pang through my chest again - probably because I wasn't alone.

Charlie handed me my present, wrapped rather messily in silver paper. I opened it - a cookbook. I smiled a little wryly as I realized how much thought had probably gone into this - something safe.

I handed him my present - wrapping perfect. I had managed to make it take up a whole hour one lonely, empty night. I had gotten him a fishing kit - more fishing line and hooks, lots of bait, and - taking up the bulk of the present - a new fishing pole. I was pretty proud of myself - not only was it something he'd enjoy, but it had taken a lot of time to pick out - red bait or blue? And then the many designs of pole to choose from - it had taken an especially long time because I knew virtually nothing about them and had to keep asking Mike for help, as I had purchased it all from their store.

There's another present under the tree for me, and this one is wrapped in red and green plaid - I appreciated Charlie's attempt at variety and at the same time feel a little ashamed because I didn't think of it. I unwrapped it to find a thick, sparkly purple notebook and pen. I glance at Charlie inquisitively - I've never displayed an interest in writing before.

"Er…I thought you might want to write down your thoughts…or stories or poetry…or something," Charlie admitted, a little embarrassed.

I appreciated the gesture, again, even though I've never been a writer and don't plan to start - I know how hard it must be to buy gifts for me.

We open the rest of our presents in silence broken only by the crinkling of paper and our murmured thank-yous. When we're finished, I make Charlie a mug of coffee and start to steadfastly do the newspaper crossword while Charlie eats his breakfast. He, almost absentmindedly, switched on the radio.

I've never been very good at crosswords, but again, it consumes time, and that's all I really care about.

I've just penciled in "largest river in England" when I notice the song that's playing. Elvis's "Blue Christmas."

_I'll have a blue Christmas without you. I'll be so blue just thinking about you._

Oh, no.

A sharp burst of pain stabs through my chest, and I frantically work to force my mind to think of other things, but my oh-so-careful discipline fails and the more I try not think of it, the more memories flood my brain. Esme's gentle face, his bedroom, his hands, and worst of all, his face…each new thought sends a sharper flash of pain through and the memories just keep coming. To my utter horror and chagrin, I feel a prickling at the corners of my eyes and I gasp through my teeth as the pain only worsens, "Dad….do you think you could turn that off, please?"

Charlie glances up quickly, surprised by my tone, and his forehead crinkles as he reads my expression and takes in my posture, hunched over myself with my arms folded over my stomach. He cocks his head slightly, listening to the song, and then his eyes widen in horror as he realizes what's going on.

He turns the radio off, and with the stimulus gone, I began to get control of myself.

I try to immerse myself in the crossword again, but I feel Charlie's eyes on me, and it's hard. I'm relieved it's finally time to leave for Mark's.

Mark's house is very crowded; it seems to me that most of Forks must be here.

I sit in the corner of the room and eavesdrop on conversations; for the most part, they're all pretty boring. Suddenly, Jessica appears by my side.

"Hi, Bella!" she squealed, perching on the arm of my chair.

"Hi."

Her eyes narrowed slightly at my lack of response.

"I've got your Christmas present!" she squeals.

I have no Christmas present for her. We've barely spoken since September, so I'm surprised she's gotten one for me. I felt very guilty.

"Er…I have one for you, too. But it's not here, I forgot it. I'll bring it to you at school, okay?" I babbled, but I can tell that she knows I don't have one.

"Whatevs, here's yours. Open it!" she handed me a square package.

I opened it. It was a CD, an artist I'd never heard of. Avril Lavigne, The Best Damn Thing.

"Er…thanks," I said, trying to sound as bright as possible.

"They're my favorite band! I'm sure you'll love them! Tell me if you like it, I have lots more of them you can borrow!" Jessica gushed.

This will be a long, boring, fake, one-sided conversation. I suppressed a sigh.

Dinner is interesting - by interesting, though, I mean exhausting. There's so many smiles and laughter and just a general air of happiness - trying to pretend I feel the same is hard. My cheeks felt like they're on fire from all the false smiling.

Back at home, I tentatively put in the Avril Lavigne CD. The first few songs are all right, but I'm not really into pop.

Then a slower one comes on. It sounds iffy, but the first few lines are all right. Then they get worse; steadily worse. _And the days feel like years when I'm alone, And the bed where you lied, is made up on your side. When you walk away, I count the steps that you take, Can't you see how much I need you right now? When you're gone, the pieces of my heart are missing you, when you're gone, the face I came to know is missing too, when you're gone, the words I need to hear to always get me through the day, and make it okay: I miss you. I've never felt this way before, everything that I do, reminds me of you._

No. Could this day get any worse? Back the memories come, destroying the walls I built around them in towering plumes of fire. It's worse than this morning.

Tears pouring down my cheeks, I pound randomly at the CD player, trying to get it to open while Avril's teenage voice sings on, every word like a sword through my heart.

Finally, the case opens and I grab the CD, slamming it against the table as I try to get rid of the pain. I take it in my hands and snap it cleanly down the middle. I drop them both in the trash while already grabbing for another CD. James Blunt. I've always liked him, but now I think of the song, "You're Beautiful" and the pain gets worse, leaving my chest to attack my brain, pounding against my temples.

My fingers scrabble against the sides of the case, and finally I fumble it open, and in seconds, James Blunt has followed Avril Lavigne.

The rest of my CD's are gone in a matter of minutes, but When You're Gone is still reverberating in my ears and the pain doesn't lessen. I sit on my bed and just cry. Cry for everything I've lost, for everybody I've hurt, for everything that will never be. I'll never be happy again. I'll never even be comfortable again. It just hurts too damn much.

Hours later, I go into the bathroom. My tears have stopped but the pain remains as it always does, until I'm strong enough to dull it out of existence, dulling myself in the process. Feeling nothing is better than feeling what I just went through. I splash water on my face and look at my swollen, red eyes. Charlie will worry, but I need to go say goodnight to him.

I take a deep breath, square my shoulders, make my face as content as possible, and go down to Charlie. I'm happy.

At least that's what he'll think.

**I am 99% sure there's conflicting tenses in there. Sorry.**

**Goal: 15 reviews. You can do it! I don't even care if you flame, and anonymous reviews are welcome.**


	3. Bella: Halloween

**There's more! Ha! And you all thought it was over! Well, to tell you the truth, so did I. But the idea of Edward and Bella during the other holidays was too appealing to pass up. So it's not over yet :--).**

**Future plans: probably, I'll do Halloween from Edward, then Valentine's Day from both, maybe Thanksgiving. ****_Then_ it'll probably be over, mostly because there's not really any other major holidays between September and April. Except St. Patrick's Day. But that would be kinda boring to write, and read :--).**

**Anyway, this is Halloween, Bella point of view. **

"Bella, you'll stay here to give candy to the trick-or-treaters, right?" Charlie asked me. He was standing in the doorway of my room. I was sitting at my computer replying to another of Renee's emails. I checked my email compulsively, usually, just for something to do, so when there actually was something, I was pretty excited. Or as excited as I could be.

"I'll be driving around the town," Charlie added. "Making sure all the kids are safe."

_All two hundred and fifty of them_, I thought, but I just said, "Sure. Of course."

"Thanks. The candy's in the cupboard above the sink."

"Kay."

Charlie sighed and ducked out of the room.

I went back to my email.

_Everything's fine here_, I wrote, _School is fine. Calculus is hard. Science is dull. English is...well, English is interesting. How're you and Phil?_

I read over it and realized that, were it an English paper, I would get a zero for sentence variation.

After I was done with my email, I worked on my English paper - compare the characters of Rochester and Mr. Darcy. We had read Pride and Prejudice at the end of September and had just finished Jane Eyre a week ago. As one could imagine, this was a _very_ fun assignment for me. I used the CliffNotes when we were reading the actual book, but it wasn't much better. I was very careful only to use their last names when writing the paper.

I didn't notice the phone had rung, immersed as I was in writing the paper but not _thinking _about it - quite an accomplishment, actually - until Charlie called up the stairs, "Phone, Bella."

I trotted down the stairs and took it out of his hand. "Hello?"

"Hi Bella, it's Jessica."

"Hey."

"We're having a party at my house tonight. Me, Mike, Eric, Angela, and everybody. You want to come?"

"Um..." I tried to think up an excuse not to go. All that enthusiasm to fake...it was exhausting just thinking about it. "Sorry, Jess, I promised my dad I'd man the door for him.

"Oh." Jessica barely sounded disappointed as she continued to talk at hyper-spped. "Are you sure? We'll have a costume party and everything. There'll be so much candy you won't want to look at it for a week." She sounded kind of unenthusiastic, like she wanted me to say no.

Well, there was no reason to disappoint her.

"No, I already promised. I think I better pass."

"If you're sure...I'll see you later, I guess."

"Kay. Bye, Jessica."

"Later." There was a soft _click_, and then she was gone.

"Was that Jessica?" Charlie asked.

"Yup," I answered listlessly.

"What did she want?"

"She was inviting me to a party," I said hesitantly. I knew he would try and force me to go, but it wasn't worth the effort of lying. He'd hear about it anyway, later, from Jessica's mother or somebody else's - _Oh, it's too bad Bella couldn't go to that party; she's a responsible little thing, isn't she? _And then he'd come home and question me and it was altogether too much of a fuss. Better to be truthful in the beginning and head off his enthusiasm now.

"You can go, you know," Charlie said, as I knew he would. "It's not that big a deal if no one's here to give candy. We don't get that much turnout here, anyway."

"No, it's okay. I already promised."

"Are you sure?"

"Yup."

"Well...okay, then," Charlie said, obviously unsure about letting me stay home, but he seemed to sense that I really didn't want to go and didn't push me on it.

****

When he left an hour later, I took the candy from the cupboard. M&Ms, Skittles, Butterfingers, and Snickers. I dumped them all in a bowl. That didn't look nearly organized enough for the organization freak that had come out in me recently. So I took out a tray and arranged them all by type. Then alphabetically. I was running out of ways to waste time with it when the doorbell rang.

Thank God.

I answered it. It was a little girl, maybe six or seven, dressed as a princess.

"Trick-or-treat!" she squealed when I opened the door.

I held out the tray, faking a smile.

"Are you a princess?" I asked her.

"I'm a _fairy_ princess," she told me importantly.

"You look very pretty."

"Thank you," she said formally, bursting with pride.

"Happy Halloween!" I called after her as she disappeared down the walk. At least I could be friendly toward the little kids. They didn't know any better. Life was still good, for them.

The night progressed slowly. Charlie was right, turnout wasn't very good here. Unlike our house in Phoenix. The doorbell never stopped ringing. We usually went through two bags of candy, at least.

At about eight, Angela showed up, her twin brothers in tow.

"Hi, Bella," she said as they grabbed their candy.

"Hey," I said, surprised to see her. "I thought you were at Jessica's."

"I'm going over there later."

"Oh."

We stood there for a moment. "Are you sure you don't want to come?" she asked suddenly. "We'll miss you. I could give you a ride, if you don't want to drive. It'll be pretty crazy."

Yeah, crazy was exactly what I wanted.

"Yes, I'm sure. Good night, you guys. Happy Halloween!"

And Angela had no choice but to take her brothers and walk down the driveway. She cast back one glance, and her face was hurt, but she understood, I could tell. Besides, a dark, steamy corner in a room full of gangly teenage bodies would make a perfect spot to have a little..._together_ time for a budding couple...and if I were to walk in on that... Or if everyone were to watch the scary movies that Jessica would undoubtedly have rented and sensitive Angela would get scared, and then Ben, chivalrous as always, would feel the need to comfort her, or, maybe, _distract_ her...No, better not to risk it.

I felt bad, watching Angela walk away, but not enough to apologize or actually _go _to the party.

At nine, I was about ready to turn off the porch light and go to bed (another thing I had noticed - I had gone to bed a lot earlier these days) when I saw three dark shadows coming up the walk. An adult and two kids.

I kept the door open.

"Trick or treat!" one of them called as they came into sight. Two boys, maybe four and seven.

One of them was a cowboy. The other one was a....no. No. Oh, please no.

"Er...I just ran out of candy," I said hastily before they came too close, about to close the door. "Sorry. Happy Halloween!"

"What do you mean?" the boys' mother asked. "You have some right there."

I looked down at my hands and at the half-full bowl of candy. Crap.

"Oh, right, sorry," I said stupidly.

The cowboy and vampire hopped up the steps.

"I'm Woody," one of them said as he took a Skittles. "From _Toy Story_."

"And I'm....a _vampire_," the other one said, not to be outdone, squaring his shoulders proudly.

"I see that. Um, Happy Halloween," I said as I felt my breathing quicken. The little boy swished his cape and bared his fangs. I felt sick watching him.

I shut the door in their face and sank against the door. I had been rude and I knew it, but I didn't care. The mother would undoubtedly tell Charlie what I had done, and he would think me all the more insane for it, but I couldn't bring myself to care as I tried desperately to take deep breaths and calm down. It didn't work.

It shouldn't be that big a deal. So a little kid had dressed up as a vampire for Halloween, and a stereotypical one at that - complete with high-necked black cape and fangs. _My _vampires were nothing like that. Getting this upset over the incident was like crying because I had seen a flamingo right after my pet canary had died. Ridiculous.

But then again, the wounds were still unbearably fresh. While they would undoubtedly half-heal in the future - close with a jagged scar and then infect and fester and open again - right now I was still in the bleeding phase. It had only happened a month and a half ago. I was entitled to a little pity party, I reasoned with msyelf.

I started to cry. I didn't want to - what if Charlie came home? But I couldn't help myself.

I unwrapped a Butterfinger, to cheer myself up - what kind of girl would I be if chocolate didn't cheer me up? - but I could barely taste the chocolate as it slid down my throat. The "crispety, crunchety, peanut-buttery"-ness of it didn't even make me thirsty as it usually did. Fingers shaking, I unwrapped another candy, not noticing the type. I shoved it into my mouth. And more and more and more. I ate as the tears poured down my face, ruining the taste of the candy, fingers scrabbling desperately against the plasticy paper. I had gotten close to finishing the tray when I finally came back to myself. I felt disgusting, bloated and fat.

Was that what I was destined to become, then? And emotional eater? Would I gain eighty-five pounds and eat nothing but frosting like that lady in that old movie _Death Becomes Her? _No wonder Ed- _he _- didn't want me. I was fat and ugly and a freak and unsocial and my mind didn't work right.

I had never hated Halloween, but I did now.

**Review, please! Thanks! **

**(I couldn't remember if we knew the gender of Angela's siblings, and I was too lazy to go look it up. Sorry if I got it wrong).**

**If you haven't seen _Death Becomes Her_, go see it. Now!!!! That is an amazing movie. Hilarious.**


	4. Edward: Halloween

**I won't waste space singing to you the praises of the awesomest beta to every walk the face of the earth, TheSingingGirl. Just know this chapter would be crap without her.**

**(This chapter is Edward's Halloween, if the title of the chapter, what I told you in the author's note in the last chapter, and the fact that the last chapter was Bella's Halloween wasn't enough to tip you off.)**

The idea had been forming in my mind for a few weeks now. I supposed that it had always been there, festering, ever since the spring, but only now was I starting to think seriously about carrying it out.

Hunting Victoria.

Victoria had definitely been part of the problem in the desperate cat-and-mouse game we had played with James in the spring. Hadn't she stayed behind in Forks, necessitating Esme and Rosalie stay behind to guard Charlie? She had made a conscious decision to help James. James had died for his actions, and so would Victoria. No one could threaten Bella and survive it, as long as I was on the earth.

Besides, tracking Victoria down would give me something to do. Something more than hiding away in attics and basements, wallowing and moping and fighting the pull that threatened to constantly lead me back to Washington, to Forks, to a small house on the edge of the town, to _her_.

It would also give me the sense that I was protecting Bella again, though - at least this was what I had to tell myself forcefully every minute - she didn't need protecting. She was safe.

She had better be safe.

And - another plus to hunting Victoria - it would give me something _to _hunt. I had not hunted in a month and a half, as my throat could very easily attest to. Part of the reason for this was because I was sure that, if I did start to hunt, I would forget all the ideals Carlisle had shown me and slip up, because I simply wouldn't care enough. And I didn't want to kill a human. The same reluctance that I had had to kill Lonnie all those months ago in Port Angeles came into play again - what if one of the innocent humans was someone's won, daughter, wife, husband; what if they were someone's Bella?

There was another reason for my prolonged abstinence. Every time I killed the meanest of animals, it forcibly reminded me why I was here, why I wasn't with _her_. I was a monster.

I knew that I would have to hunt sometime - I couldn't very well go the rest of my meaningless existence without hunting. Even in my dazed, half-crazed state I knew that. Probably, I would end up going to some extremely remote place to hunt, where there was no chance that any human could cross my path, and maybe I would stop caring about the lives of animals soon.

But hunting Victoria could perhaps put off my much-needed hunting trip.

All in all, there were several pros to hunting down Victoria, and, as far as I could see, no cons at all. So I would hunt Victoria, then, starting as soon as possible.

I would leave tonight, as soon as darkness fell. That would be very soon - I could see the fiery orb of the sun dipping behind a low hill on the horizon, and the last bluish dregs of sunlight were fast evaporating. Twilight.

I tried not to remember that twilight had used to be my favorite part of the day.

I wasn't sure where I was - somewhere in Wisconsin, maybe? I hadn't noticed where I had been wandering as I stumbled through the nameless counties and towns in my desperate quest to do something, anything. To escape Washington, to escape her, to escape myself.

I did know that I was in the attic of a house in a moderately sized town - Madison? I started listening down the stairs, intently trying to figure out when the family would be going to bed tonight. The sooner I could leave, the better.

_The candy! Oh, where did I put it? _"Cara? Have you seen the candy?" A voice called from down below. A frazzled, middle-aged mom.

Why was she looking for candy? Was there some sort of party going on here tonight? My mind thought the questions, but my heart didn't even try to care, my mind didn't even pretend to be interested.

"Isn't in the cupboard beside the fridge?" Cara yelled back, her thoughts on something else entirely. She seemed to be about my age, or, more accurately, Bella's age. She was in her room, sifting frantically through the misshapen heaps of clothes on her dresser. I saw her reflection in her mind as she checked her hair in the mirror. She was dressed in a long white robe, a halo attached to her head. Why was she dressed as an angel? Was everything trying to remind me of Bella tonight?

_Where's my makeup? _Cara thought frantically as the clothes went tumbling down. _If Lauren took it I am going to kill her! _And who was Lauren? Cara's sister, maybe? I tried to forget Lauren Mallory, who still had the privilege of knowing Bella. Yes, there she was, wearing a pink dress that looked more like a dress-up costume than a regular outfit. She was maybe six or seven. _I'm a princess, a pretty, pretty princess! _she thought, twirling in front of her mother and beaming. _Cara's makeup looks so pretty! _And indeed, she had gotten into her sister's makeup - poorly aimed lipstick decorated the area around her mouth, and mascara had been applied so unevenly that she had the appearance that her eyelashes had been cut into chunks.

Bella never wore makeup. Apart from the prom night, when Alice had made her up. I cursed my wayward thoughts – now I was missing my sister, too.

"Lauren, go play with your Polly Pockets! Your dad will be home in a little while, and then you can go with him! And what's on your face! Did you get into Cara's makeup again?" her mother's voice rose from two stories below, distracted from her desperate candy search. "Go take it off right now! Then bring it back to Cara and say sorry," she scolded while rooting through the cupboards. Lauren was crushed and ran out of the room. _It's not fair! Cara can wear makeup!_

Someone should let her know soon that life wasn't fair, as Bella had pointed out to me that day in biology so long ago.

At that moment, Cara dashed down the stairs, furious. "Mom, I can't find my makeup, and I have to go soon, I'll be late! I'll probably end up spending the night at Ashley's, but I'll call you, 'kay?" She waved to her mother before heading for the stairs again. Was she going to a costume party?

The stressed atmosphere of the family below me continued, but I was oblivious as I suddenly realized what the costumes and candy were about.

Today was Halloween, wasn't it?

How had I missed it? Had I really missed all the signs? The pumpkins that decorated each doorstep, including this one? The large posters in the windows of every store proclaiming the candy and costumes on sale within?

I had been more out of touch with things than I had thought. Though I remembered exactly how many days had passed in my interminable exile, I had neglected to think about it, and now the date came back to spite me.

Halloween, to me, had had two different meanings. The first had been when I was a human. I could barely remember those times, but my friends and I had certainly caused enough mischief on those nights.

Then, I had turned immortal, and suddenly Halloween had ceased to mean much. We, whoever _we _had been that year - first just Carlisle and me, then Esme too, then Rosalie, and so forth - had always bought a bag of candy in case anyone did happen to come by - but no one ever had – no doubt scared of us and all the rumors that had been spread. So Halloween had just been another night for all those years. Emmett had once suggested going trick-or-treating out of state, claiming to be a vampire, but that idea had quickly been dismissed as foolish, immature, and downright dangerous.

And now I was missing all of my family.

I suddenly wondered what Bella was doing now. I didn't want to think of it, but my mind refused to listen to me. Would she be dressing up like Cara, preparing to go to a party with Angela and Jessica and - I forced myself to think the last one - _Mike?_ No - that wasn't like her. More likely, she would be home, passing out candy to the kids that came by. I could picture her, smiling at four-year-olds dressed as ogres, pretending to be frightened, and then breathing a sigh of relief when the door was closed.

This was why I had left, I reminded myself. Bella would be so good with children. I had to give her that chance.

What poor timing on my part, though. The house would not be going to bed for hours, now. The trick-or-treaters would be coming until at least nine, and probably one of Cara's parents would wait up for her to call, which would be coming in later. Midnight or even into the morning, if the teenager's original plans were to be trusted.

Which meant that I couldn't start hunting Victoria until late tonight.

I settled in to watch the night unfold before me. It would certainly be long and tedious, as so many human events were. But maybe there would be some interesting tidbits to ease the boredom.

Who was I kidding? I had no interest in the lives of these people. I wasn't even interested in my own life – no, my own existence – any longer.

But tidbits galore there were. Cara refused to put on her makeup when she finally learned its whereabouts, claiming that she had no time, but she did deliver a threat to her little sister about when she got home, serious enough that her mother protested, "Cara!". Lauren burst into tears, which made Cara snort, untroubled, mutter "baby", and storm out. Her mother's thoughts were alight with anger as she comforted the crying child.

The father came home half an hour later to find Lauren sitting at the table, eating a cookie and a glass of milk, all traces of tears gone, which made him grumble that "she's going to be out all night eating candy, and you want to feed her _more _sugar now?" His annoyance disappeared when he saw Lauren's eyes shine as she asked, "When are we going trick-or-treating, daddy?"

One day, Bella's child would say that to someone. Some nameless, faceless man who I loved because Bella loved him, and loathed because he loved Bella. A stranger who I had never seen – would never see – but that I still envied with enough force to make my hands clench into fists and my shoulders tremble.

Finally, father and daughter departed, and the mother sat by the door, reading her book. It was for her book club, which met on the second of every month. She was just starting the book. It was Pride and Prejudice, and the mother complained bitterly about the old-fashioned language.

Bella read books so often and quickly that she could probably have read the club's entire booklist in a week. She could have recited Pride and Prejudice by heart.

The first trick-or-treaters came up the walk at 7:20. There was three of them - a cute little bumblebee was maybe four, a princess like Lauren about her age, and an astronaut about ten.

They rang the doorbell, cheerfully yelled "trick or treat!" and went away crowing with delight over their newly acquired candy. The mom settled back down.

Most of the visits went like that, but some of the children were unbearably rude, others painfully shy. One of them, a badly constructed bottle of ketchup, asked the mom for a different kind of candy. "I don't like Snickers!" he had whined. And when Cara's mom said, "I'm sorry, that's all I have right now," the child had began to cry. The mother had hustled him away, glaring at the other mother and saying spitefully, "You just had to crush his spirits, didn't you?" over her shoulder.

The blindness of humans never ceased to amaze me.

Bella would never bring her children up to be so spoilt. She herself would never have been so spoilt back in Phoenix.

This did not improve the mom's mood. Between feuding sisters, bratty kids, and unfinished, archaic books, she was in the blackest of moods when a little girl, dressed as a fairy complete with sparkling wings, rang the doorbell.

Cara's mom opened it wearily. The girl on the steps just stood there.

She waited, but still, the fairy didn't say anything.

"Say 'trick or treat'," the girl's father prompted her. He shared a look and a smile with the mom. _Oh, she's so cute! _she thought, all anger evaporating. _Look at her, with her wings and everything. She looks terrified, poor girl. I suppose I must scare her_.

And the thought of this stressed, middle-aged woman scaring the little girl when there were other people like me around was so funny to me that I almost laughed. Almost, but not quite. Firstly, someone might hear me. Unlikely, but that would be an inconvenience to talk myself out of. And then, the much more serious reason - I would never laugh again.

Even watching the antics of the human family hadn't boosted my spirits enough to even produce a smile. As fascinating as they may be to watch, they couldn't distract me. I was too far gone.

Every move they made reminded me of _her_. Bella would detest the pretty pink princess costume, she would rise above the loss of makeup, though she wouldn't own any, anyway. Had she gone trick-or-treating with Renee when she was younger? What costume had she worn? All these questions that I would never know about her.

I had had the better part of two days to learn everything I could about her. I knew now that it hadn't been nearly enough to know everything I wanted to learn about this fascinating woman.

At about 8:30, a vampire came up the drive. He was about eleven years old, dressed in a black cape with a starched collar that framed his neck in red. He had the plastic fangs in place in his mouth when Cara's mom opened the door.

Instead of saying the customary, he instead hissed in as menacing a tone as he could produce, 'I vant to suck your blooood', drawing out the word blood for as long as he could. Then he swallowed noisily and his thoughts became panicked. _Stupid fangs! What is it with these things and drooling? I'm probably gonna drool all over her mat. _The effect was comical. And indeed, Cara's mom fought back a laugh, though she didn't even know his thoughts. She handed the boy the Snickers and said, "Oooh, scary. Are you Dracula?"

The boy nodded and hissed once more time before turning away.

That had always been the best part of Halloween. Watching the little kids dressed as vampires, trying to scare people with their plastic fangs. Emmett and Jasper always made a bet on how many they would see. Jasper nearly always won.

I hoped no vampires called on Bella, tonight. That would be a reminder, a reminder I had promised that I would protect her against. A pang went through me as I realized that I had failed in this aspect of protecting her, as I did in so many others.

I would make up for it with my hunt of Victoria.

At 9:00, Lauren came home, toting her pillowcase full of candy and shivering - the princess dress was awfully light and it was chilly outside, but she had refused to put on the white sweater her mother had forced her to bring along, "just in case".

Bella would be so protective of her daughters, one day.

At 11:30, Cara finally called, informing her mother that she was indeed going to spend the night.

Once upon a time, this would have been interesting. A phone call was always a strange experience for me, because unless they were within a while, I couldn't hear the other party's thoughts. It was a bit like talking to Bella.

"Oh, no you're not," said her mother. "You need to come home right now."

Cara was outraged. "Why?" she gasped.

"Do you how much you scared Lauren with your threat? She cried for ten minutes after you left. She thought you were serious."

"Well, that was stupid of her," Cara remarked, still angry.

"Cara..." her mother sighed, then composed herself. "Come home. We'll talk about this when you get here." Her voice was firm.

Cara hung up without replying. Twenty minutes later, she parked in front of the house, slammed the car door, and stormed into the house. She ignored both her parents and went up the hall. Furious, she slammed the door to her room and began to cry.

Bella cried when she was angry, too. Please God, Bella would never cry when she was sad, never again. Please God, Bella would never cry because of me.

"Should I go up and talk to her?" her mother asked.

"No. Give her a chance to calm down and wait for the morning," her husband cautioned. "Let's go to bed now."

And within ten minutes the house was silent.

So, Halloween was over now. This family could have been fascinating - all the teenage drama was not something I was used to, as Bella was unusually calm for a teenager. As it was, all it had done was grate on my already raw nerves, unearth memories I was trying to keep buried, and bring my mind back to Bella. I needed to go.

Victoria was calling.

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